


Leather Bound

by GenLeo



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-08
Updated: 2019-12-09
Packaged: 2020-01-06 14:14:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18390050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GenLeo/pseuds/GenLeo
Summary: How does someone who has murdered dozens become a hero?The answer may lie inside a pair of leather boots, the deepest chamber of a temple or at the roots of a giant tree. It may even lie up there on the tallest tower in Fereldan. But maybe, just maybe, the answer lies in the arms of a dark skinned elf.This is the tale of how two wayward souls who found each other in the dark.





	1. Blades and Ointments

**Author's Note:**

> Well, you chose to read this. I think it was the right choice. I will be posting once a week. Check in every monday and a new chapter should be here.  
> A few things to consider:  
> 1\. This is my cannon playthrough, with some narrative spice.  
> 2\. English is not my native language. Please, be gentle when pointing out my mistakes.  
> Without further ado, Enjoy!

The mark was going to pass through the valley in a few moments. There should be enough time to set up everything. Zevran Arainai decided to use a bottle neck formation in the valley to trap the targets. According to his intel, the Wardens were originally traveling with a chantry sister, a qunari criminal and a chasind apostate. However, it seemed that a old mage from Kinloch Hold had joined them once they got rid of the demons lurking in the Mage Tower.

Still, Zevran had already taken precautions to deal with mages. A blond apostate with a ruthless reputation was hired in Denerim, and so were a dozen of skirmishers. They were all in position: The apostate as bait, the archers on high ground and the rest hiding in bushes or behind the cart. Even if he had a death wish, he could not bring himself to do a half-assed job. 

The town of Lothering proved to be a great well of knowledge about both of the Wardens. For what he had gathered, one of them could be Arl Eamon’s heir and the other escaped prison by joining the Wardens. The former was known as a nice, funny and naive fellow. The latter was described as both compassionate and ruthless, depending on who you asked. Unfortunately, the events that transpired in the Mage Tower were unavailable to the common folk. Not even his best agents could inform him on what happened.

“Bandits attacked our caravan! Please, help us. Follow me!” the apostate’s cue made Zevran lose his train of thought. The woman appeared from around the corner, followed by the wardens. One was tall, blonde and seemed massive as he wore templar armour. The other was an elf. He was shorter and leaner than the human, with Rivaini complexion and coal black hair. The tall qunari and the red-headed chantry sister walked behind them.

Zevran smiled and the elven warden frowned as reality sunk in. A tree fell behind the wardens, trapping them and their party in the valley with the assassins. Zevran drew his weapons and yelled:

“The Grey Wardens die now!”

The qunari slammed against the first man that tried to approach him. The chantry sister leaped farther away and, without losing a second, tensed her bow. A swift whistle and one of Zevran’s archer started gurgling blood with an arrow stuck across her neck. The apostate tried to cast fire from her staff, but the human warden his shield with his sword, purging any magic. The apostate barely had time to cry for help when the elf drew a pair of daggers and buried the blades deep inside the woman’s chest. He was as fast as a lightning bolt. He dug out his weapons and the body of the apostate fell to a pool of her own blood.

Zevran hadn’t moved since the battle begun. The efficiency of the group was both mesmerizing an terrifying. 

Covered in blood, the warden glared at Zevran and the curve on his lips told the assassin that he was going to enjoy the fight. The Antivan knew that the next confrontation could be his last. And that made him grin a bit. The elven warden launched himself towards the assassin and tried to stab him. Zevran managed to parry the blades.

“You will have to try a bit harder, little warden.” Zevran took the closeness as an opportunity to appreciate the adversary better. He had various scars across his face, neck and arms. His eyes were dark brown, but the Antivan’s mockery made them seem like boiling coffee.

“Noted.” He smiled as he lift his left leg and kicked him right in the abdominal region. That dirty move made him lose his balance for a second.

A second that the warden took to strike again. Zevran barely managed to deflect the second attack, but managed to regain a good posture and answered with a whirlwind of stabs. One even hit the warden in one arm. The elf hissed in pain and recoiled.

“Come on. I thought wardens were a force to fear.”

The elven warden smiled, wrathful. Quick as a wip, he ran up to the assassin and, when he was a few feet away, he threw dust and dirt to his face. Blinded, Zevran was unaware that the warden rolled to the side and that he was now lurking behind him. What he did notice was a sharp pain on his back that made him fall on his face.

Zevran felt as if it was the end. He closed his eyes and waited death. He could hear the battle continue, but he started to drift into the abyss before the fight ended. One word, a name, came to his mind. However, he was unable to put it as a clear thought. Was his memory failing? Or was his brain protecting him from more pain?

He felt as if some strange force was pulling him. At first he thought it was death finally sinking in, but a sudden and sharp stinging sensation on his back made him open his eyes. He raised his head, supporting himself with his arms, and noticed that he was bare chested and deduced that the stinging sensation was some kind of ointment to treat his wounds. He had been captured by his mark. But, why? 

“I rather thought I would wake up dead. Or not wake up at all, as the case may be. But I see you haven’t killed me yet.” 

The elven warden was the closest to him, crouched beside him.

“If you rather… it has an easy solution.” His voice was raspy and had an air of arrogance. He looked like a man who would kill a wounded foe in cold blood. The other warden seemed ready to intervene, yet he stood still. Apparently, the elf was the leader.

“Of that I have no doubt. You are most skilled. If you haven’t killed me, however, you must have kept me alive for some purpose, yes?” Zevran’s survival instincts kicked in and he put on a more pleading face. He wasn’t ready to give up on life just yet.

“You’re awfully glib for a prisoner.”

“It is my way, or so I’m told.”

“Well, what exactly are you?”

“My name is Zevran. Zev to my friends. I am a member of the Antivan Crows, brought here for the sole purpose of slaying any surviving Grey Wardens. Which I failed.”

“I’m glad you failed. Thank you very much.”

“So would I, in your shoes. For me, however, it sets a poor precedent, doesn’t it? Getting captured by a target seems a tad detrimental to one’s budding assassin career.”

“Think about it like this: Either we are too good to be killed,” he then half-smiled, “or you really suck. Your choice, buddy.”

“Is this what you Fereldans do? Mock your prisoners? Such cruelty.” Zevran found himself having fun with the conversation.

“Only the ones who run from the mouth. Who hired you?”

“It was a rather taciturn man from the capital. Loghain, I believe he was called.”

“Obviously,” the human warden scoffed, but his leader ignored him.

“How much did he pay you for this ‘job’?”

“I wasn’t paid anything. The Crows, however, were paid quite handsomely. Or so I understand.”

“Why even be a Crow if you don’t get the profit?” He looked really puzzled. It was really refreshing seeing that terrifying creature with a cuter expresion than ‘mad’ or ‘sadistically happy’.

“Well, aside for a lack of ambition, it wasn’t a choice for me. The Crows bought me when I was young. I was a bargain, or…”

The elf interrupted him by clapping his hands, seemingly ready to move on.

“Just tell Loghain to stop sending goons to do his dirty work.”

“Well, that is not going to happen.” The warden raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “As you see, I was never going to meet Loghain ever again. I was supposed to inform the Crows that the deed was done. But now…”

“Now what?” He was getting impatient.

“Well, while I would love being killed by a handsome brute, let me propose you something else.”

“Fine.” he crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. “Speak. Fast.”

“Here is how it is: I failed and so my life is forfeit. Even if you don’t kill me, the Crows will. Thing is, I like living. And you are obviously one to give the Crows pause. So let me serve you, instead.” His captor clicked his tongue.

“Do your loyalties change that easily?”

“I happen to be a very loyal person. Up until the point where someone expects me to die for failing. That’s not a fault, really, is it? I mean, unless you ask the same. In that case, I don’t come very well recommended.”

“What about success?” Zevran didn’t understand the question and it showed on his face. The other elf sighed. “Whatever, you must think I’m royally stupid.”

“I think you’re royally hard to kill. I’m only hoping you are stupid.” The stare Zevran got was so full of wrath that he started laughing nervously. “That was a joke.”

No one else laughed. Tough crowd.

“Let me rephrase that. I’m hoping that you are the sort of fellow that takes a chance every now and again. Ha, ha, yes?”

“Sorry, I think I’m not taking any risks.” The warden raised his dagger, unphased. 

Zevran needed to think fast. Something to convince the warden not to kill him. A last ditch effort. But he couldn’t come up with anything. Defeated, he let himself hit the ground.

“Oh, well. I suppose fair is indeed fair.” he looked at the elf straight in the eyes.  “One favour, please: do not eat my remains like some barbarian. It would be most ugly. If you want to devour me, please do it while I draw breath and lie naked in a soft mattress.” He ended his statement with a wink, before closing his eyes.

He expected a blade and got a laugh. The warden’s laugh was really candid for a man with such a thirst for blood. He gave the assassin a more honest smile and offered his hand.

“Promise you won’t cross me and you can join.”

Really? That was most likely his worst pick up line ever, and it worked? His mind was a mess, but he managed to keep a respectable level of poise. The warden picked him up and he cleaned himself up.

“I hereby pledge my oath of loyalty to you until such a time you choose to release me from it. I’m your man, without reservations. This I swear.” He finished with an elegant bow.

“Really fancy way of speaking, Zev.” 

“Are you serious, Daniel? He tried to kill us!” The human man was livid. The other one just shrugged his complaints.

“Hey, we need all the help we can get.”

“Maybe you  **are** royally stupid.” 


	2. Leather and Ingots

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first night where Zevran got a moment to explain about his homeland and his past.

From the first night he spent with that cavalcade of odds, Zevran found out that the leader of the Wardens ate like a pig. Almost without breathing. Definitively without putting the bowl away from his lips. Fortunately,the olive skinned elf was smart enough to tie his hair in a ponytail. If not, he would have strands of coal black hair swimming in his porridge. The other Warden wasn’t much better, but at least he knew how to use a spoon.

The rest of the bunch seemed okay with their leader’s manners. That night, the qunari was sitting near the fire, with his eyes closed. Meditating? Nah. Maybe napping. The witch didn’t share the moment with them. She left for the night in the shape of a crow. And Leliana, the chantry sister, was restringing her bow. The only one displeased was the oldest of the group, the mage. Wynne had her lips pursed throughout the meal and her frowning eyes locked in the elf. When The Warden served himself seconds, she stood up and handed him a spoon.

“Mind your manners on the table, Daniel.”

“There is no table. We’re outside.” The old woman hit the elf in the head with the spoon which fell inside the bowl.

“Just use the utensils.” She walked off scoffing, “For the Maker’s sake.”

“Such a nag.” Daniel smiled at Alistair. Wynne seemed to be the only one who could scold the little warden without enraging him.

“Makes me go back to the days where chantry never stopped telling me how to behave.”

“Speaking of which…” the elf turned his head to the assassin. “You’re an Antivan Crow, right? What’s Antiva like?” The question caught Zevran out of guard, but he was still a master of pretending. He pulled out his biggest smile and raised a brow to the Warden.

“Oh? You wish to know about Antiva, do you? The only way to truly appreciate it would be to go there. It is a warm place, not cold and harsh like this Fereldan. In Antiva it rains often, but the flowers are always in bloom… or so the saying goes.” 

“Oh, come on! Fereldan isn’t that bad”

“It is fine enough with its dogs and its mud.” he took out his own spoon and used it to point someone who wasn’t really there.  “The people are spirited even if they can’t tell the difference between an assassin and a mere killer”.

Daniel rolled his eyes and Alistair let a chuckle. Zevran ignored them inflating his chest and raising his chin.

“I hail from the glorious Antiva City, home to the royal palace. It is a glittering gem amidst the sand, my Antiva City. What about you, little warden? Do you come from someplace comparable?” After he said that, he felt he overstepped his boundaries. Both wardens stopped eating and Alistair went really pale as his eyes went back and forward between the two elves. Daniel raised an eyebrow, expectant. Zevran swallowed and gave him half a smile.

The other elf softened his expression and half smiled too. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. We’re of the same height.” he grabbed his spoon and ate. “And yes, I do. My mother was better than any gem.”

Zevran laughed, in part because of the surprise answer, but mostly because he expected to get something worse. He already made the mistake of underestimating the hot headed elf.

“You have me there, indeed! I, for one, can make no such claim as I never laid eyes on the woman!”

There was a bit of a pause, as if none of them knew how to continue the conversation. Daniel opened and closed his mouth and went back to eating his porridge, without making eye contact with anybody. The talk couldn’t end in such a sour note. Zevran stared at the floor,trying to lighten the mood again. Apparently, the thought of missing mothers was enough to affect both wardens. He kicked a pebble but the leather quality of his boots was so poor that he ripped a hole near the toes. He cursed in antivan and then a thought crossed his mind.

“You know what is most odd? We speak of my homeland, and for all its wine and its dark-haired beauties and the lillo flutes of the minstrels… I miss the leather the most.” The spoon fell once more into the bowl.

“What in the…? Is that some kind of euphemism?” Daniel’s question brought in Zevran another laugh.

“It may as well be! But not in this once. I mean the smell. For years I lived in a tiny apartment near Antiva City’s leather making district, in a building where the Crows stored their youngest recruits. Packed like crates.” He made the mimic with their hands as if he was putting up a stack of boxes. “I grew accustomed to the stench, even though the humans complained of it constantly. To this day the smell of fresh leather is what reminds me most of home more than anything else.”

“Wait… how long have you been out of Antiva? It looks to me that you left years ago.” Daniel retorted while unsuccessfully trying to scoop more food out of the cauldron.

“Oh,” Zevran cleared his throat, “not so long, I know. It is my first time away from Antiva, however, and the thought of never returning makes me think of it constantly. Before I left, I was tempted to spend what little coin I possessed on leather boots I spotted in a store window. Finest Antivan leather, perfect craftsmanship… Ah, but I was a fool to leave them. I just thought I could buy them after the job, as a reward! More the fool I, no?”

“The job was… me, right?” Daniel pointed himself with a half grin, definitely remembering their first encounter.

“And me.” Alistair sounded extremely pissed off for a man whose mouth was full of oats.

“Yes. And now here I am. One simply never knows what is to come next. How could I have suspected that I would end up defeated by a handsome Grey Warden, a man who then spares my life? I could not”

Daniel smiled and leaned closer.

“Well, Zev, you know what they say: One must make the most of where you are.” he took the assassin’s hand that held the bowl.

‘Zev’ laughed nervously. Was he making a pass at him.

“Quite right you are. I see Grey Wardens do not recruit fools.”

“Of course not. And I recruited you, right?” His brown eyes seemed to have a fire of their own in the dim light. The elven warden passed his tongue around his lips. That has to be a pass, right? Who would picture the hot blooded elf as the flirty one? Zevran lean even closer. Their noses where inches apart when Alistair coughed so hard one would believe he was about to die.

“Well! I’m going to sleep. You should two.” He walked away from the fire flailing his arms awkwardly. Alistair getting uncomfortable from the display was expected. He would probably faint from hearing the word ‘sex’. Zevran turned his head to the warden to continue where they left. 

And he found him a few feet away. 

Eating Zevran’s porridge.

The assassin just stood there watching the warden with his jaw slightly open. The cursed porridge was his objective all along. Although a little insulted, the assassin tried to cover it with a yawn.

“Well, I think the chantry boy has a point. I will be going to rest and I wish you a good night of sleep.” He stood up and went to his tent.

“Oh yeah, goodnight, Zev.” he nodded while licking porridge off his fingers.

Unfortunately, between the frustration of being fooled for a bowl of peasant food and the fact that the injury on his back hadn’t fully healed, he barely slept. He got out of his tent when he started to hear movement outside. The first thing he noted was a leather bag on the ground. He crouched, grabbed it and opened it. Inside he found a little ingot made entirely out of silver. He hastily closed the bag and begun scanning the camp to understand the origin of his finding.  The qunari and the human warden were packing the tents near the fire, where the chantry sister was roasting some fishes.

He went and interrogated Alistair.

“I found myself in need of your assistance.”

“Do you?” The man turned his head to him and raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, my suspicious friend. I just need to know if you know how this bag ended up outside my tent.”

“We are not friends.”

“Fine,” he folded his arms, “will you help me or not.”

“Daniel left it there this morning. Happy?”

“Not yet. Where can I find the little warden?” Alistair groaned.

“He’s packing Morrigan’s stuff. She’s  still gone. Now, could you go away? You’re distracting.” Zevran curled his lips in a devil smile.

“Oh, do I distract you, chantry boy?” as he spoke, he trailed the human’s back with his index finger. Alistair shivered and jumped a foot forward. 

“Sorry, I’ll rephrase.” He turned to him with a glare. “You’re not distracting. You’re annoying.” 

Zevran shrugged the lame insult off and walked to the elven warden. He was crouched on his tiptoes, trying to tie down a stack of books with the fabric of the tent. He twitched his pointy ears when he felt the assassin getting closer. Zevran watched him struggle for a little while before asking:

“Need any help?” 

“Not really,”  he finished the wrapping with a ribbon. He sighed, seemenly frustrated.

“Is something else bothering you?” Daniel stared at the book pile, pondering for a moment.

“Morrigan. She’s still gone. I believe she can find us, but it feels rude to leave without warning.”

It was an oddity to think that a warden who was going to be executed and was fine recruiting a qunari criminal and an assassin seemed concerned with being correct. Maybe he didn’t want to be  on the witch bad side. However, there was something that Zevran didn’t know yet about their dynamic. He still tried to be useful and appeace the elf.

“I see. Don’t worry, warden. The witch is a resourceful lady and she doesn’t care about etiquette or manners.”

“You may be right. Thanks, Zev.”

“At your service, my leash.” He took an elegant bow, worthy to be performed in an Antivan ball. “Oh, right. I came here to ask you about this,” he said as he showed him the pouch.

“That is a welcome gift. And a payment.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’ve been here a few days now. I just wanted you to feel welcome.” The warden averted his eyes. “And it is a payment for stealing your food last night. You can give it back if you don’t want it.” It was odd to see the elf so awkward, embarrassed even. 

Zevran smiled.

“Never.It is most precious and I’ll treasure it.”

“You… Well… Shouldn’t you use the ingot to buy something you want? It is just an ingot, you know?”.

“But it is  **my** ingot and I shall be the one who decides what to do with it. And I wish to keep it.” 

The warden half smiled.

“Fine. Have it your way. And just call me ‘Daniel’. Calling me ‘leash’ makes me feel like a slaver”

Zevran’s smiled widened and he nodded at him.

“What about “little warden”? It fits you.”

“Your funeral, pal.” He was still smiling, so it wasn’t clear if he was serious.

Zevran then walked off to his tent and started packing his stuff. He put the pouch with the ingot inside well hidden in his backpack. He sighed as he recognized that he meant it when he said he was going to keep it. A younger Zevran would have never done that.


	3. Thugs and Liars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zevran accompanies Daniel through a few confrontations through Denerim

Denerim’s Market District had a particular smell and it was straddling the line between curious and disgusting. Definitely the mud of the road, mould and something else. Dog? Most likely. However, identifying the different scents was hard when one was always accompanied by a mabari hound and a templar who knew little about how to keep the undergarments clean. Fortunately, this time only the former was present. The qunari walked behind them, with his massive armour overshadowing his elven companions, including the leader. 

Daniel was wearing a standard armour, made out of grey-tinted hide. Sturdy material for the cold of the south. Zevran admired how the thick leather was still able to hug the warden’s silhouette, especially around the waist. He had made a hobby out of watching Daniel’s body when no one was was aware. There was something about him that was too tempting. Maybe was his strong yet slim physique. Or the way he combed his long black hair back. Maybe there simply was something alluring in the gap of skin between the skirt of the armour and the metal shin guards of his boots.

He knew it was reckless to keep staring at Daniel’s body in that manner. Not only because he ignored if Daniel would welcome the stare but also because it was distracting him. This conclusion was brought by the fact that he ended up stepping over horsecrap. Once he felt the soft texture under his boot, he jumped back and started cussing in antivan. Daniel laughed.

“Aren’t you clumsy, Crow?”

“I was… impressed by your boldness and that made me lose a bit of concentration.”

“Boldness?”

“Aren’t you bold, being inside the city where your sworn enemy lives?” Daniel gave him a puzzled look.

“There’s no darkspawn in Denerim,” he paused and looked at the ground. “At least, not yet.”

“I meant Loghain Mac Tir.”

“Oh, him? I’m not interested in him yet. We’ve more pressing issues right now.” 

“What is the task at hand, then?”

“We just need to ask some questions.” His smile was not reassuring. “Get some facts straight. It won’t take long” Daniel made a full stop when he saw a crow on a barrel next to the tavern. “Well, what have we here? Morrigan?” The crow made an awful sound before turning into a puff of smoke from where the Witch of the Wilds came. "I thought that you had left us for good."

“I decided to come here faster and make sure that ‘our friend’ doesn’t get the chance to get away.” She was smirking while leaning on his staff. Daniel nodded as he walked up to the door across the road.

“Good idea, but let me know next time.” 

He sounded so calm before he kicked the door with such strength that he broke the lock and left it wide open. A human male with dark skin and hair run to the entrance to see what had happened to his door. Once he saw Daniel’s smirk, all the colour left his face.

“Y-you’re back.”

“Surprised, ‘Weylon’? C’mon, we parted on good terms. Of course, I would visit you.”

“You haven’t gone to Lake Calenhad yet, I see.” Zevran noticed how the unknown man was trying to regain control of the situation. Daniel was smiling but his eyes were cold and his movements, calculated. 

“Of course we went.” He pulled out his dagger. “You’re dead, you scheming rat.” 

“For Andr-” the human’s battle cry was cut short by Daniel’s blade. He fell to his knees as the blood spurted out of his neck like a fountain. Daniel kicked him out of the way while he cleaned the blood off his face.

“Let’s see if we can find what is going on here.”

Zevran stepped into the dining room and, after a glance, walked towards the kitchen. Without much care about the investigation, he took an apple and bit it. He walked around, pretending to search. Morrigan stayed outside, refusing to even act interested. Daniel came out from the back of the house, bloody fingers wrapped around a piece of paper.

“Sten found this,” he handed the paper to Morrigan and Zevran who was still eating. The Crow had years of experience extracting information, so he was able to get the gist of a paper with just a glance.

“It appears that whomever you’re looking for has gone to the Frostbacks.”

“Then, we have a lead. I was starting to get annoyed.” Daniel put the paper inside his bag and they all headed out to the market, following the de facto leader to a wall near the alienage. There was a poster that apparently called his attention. “Why does this have the Grey Warden’s crest?”

“We seem to have allies in this city. If we have time, we should go to the rendezvous point.” Zevran finished reading, “Where is this ‘Pearl’?”

“Oh! I know! It’s a whore house pretending to be a tavern. The ale is good, though.” Daniel’s voice turned a little more cheery.

“Well, well,” Morrigan smirked as she walked away, “‘tis now clear why the Crow is so eager to go.”

Zevran laughed at the attempt to embarrass him. The witch would have to try harder if he wanted to phase him with sex jokes.

“Can you blame me for longing home?”

“Weren’t you an assassin?”

“I  **am** an assassin, señor Tabris. It just happens that I was raised in a whore house.” The first step to being respected as a whore child was to never be afraid of your origins. Although within the Crows being a whore offspring was more the rule than an exception, Zevran had his fair share of stares and name-calling when his background was found out. 

“You and I will get around the Pearl easily, then.” Daniel touched him with his elbow while smiling. 

“Oh, I would never imagine that someone like you would have to pay to get laid, Daniel.” The smiled tensed up and his eyes averted Zevran’s.

“As I said, the ale is good. If I got some coins to spare I would go with my cousins and get a few drinks. It wasn’t something we could do regularly, but it was a nice escape from the routine.” He looked at the closed alienage with misty eyes.

Zevran decided to change the topic.

“I just realize that I do not know the name of your furry companion.” He pointed to the mabari with a movement of his chin.

“Him? He’s Pokey”

“Pokey?”

“He has a hole in his left ear, that’s how I recognized him after Ostagar. He has been following us since then.” They started walking through the Market and then into the smaller alleys. 

“He seems to care for you.”

“Technically I saved him, so he got attached. You, oversized vermin.” he kneeled to scratch the dog under his chin. The dog took the chance to jump over his master and lick his face.

Talking with the wardens felt like disarming a bomb. Every movement had to be calculated and any mistake could end up in disaster. However, the other members seemed to have more respect than fear for the little leader. Morrigan feared nothing and mocked Alistair mercilessly. The qunari barely spoke at all and Wynne was old and had taken a sort of motherly role with the two wardens. Leliana, the chantry sister, was just a nice person. 

Maybe he was the only one who feared the warden’s emotions. Even the dog had no qualms bothering him with his muddy paws and slippery saliva. Was it because he knew his position was precarious or because he had first-hand experience with the type of man Daniel was when he got pissed?

Survival instincts one may say.

“Great, now I need a bath. Thanks.” Daniel didn’t seem truly bothered that the dog paid no attention to his scoldings.

“You already had blood on most of your clothes and body.”

“I’d rather blame the dog.” he shrugged.

“Speaking of that, why are we interested in this Genetivi man so much that you killed his ‘assistant’? The poor man left a lot of himself all over you”

“You don’t know who he is? Even I know who he is!” the warden seemed so surprised that it made Zevran chuckle a little.

“I am afraid I do not know the man, neither in person nor by reputation.” 

“He is a Chantry scholar. He writes history. All of Eamon’s knights have left Redcliffe in the search of the Urn of Sacred Ashes and Genetivi may know where it is.”

“You mean…?”

“Andraste’s. It seems like it’s the only way to cure the Arl’s illness. Even if this endeavour ends up being a failure, at least we may get on the Arlessa’s good side. We need their army to solve this mess.”

Daniel stopped and pointed to a small building at their left. The Pearl was right before them. The building itself didn’t look that bad on the outside. The walls were thick and sturdy like any good brothel should. It would be unfortunate if the sounds from one session were heard by everyone in the establishment.

The door creaked when it was opened and a pungent smell of flowers and honey invaded Zevran’s nostrils. There were other scents hidden, like smoke and booze. It was like a wave of nostalgia hitting the shores of his mind. Such great memories. Inside the entrance hall, there was a small window that led to the accounting room and a fireplace with a dwarf with an impatient expression. The common area was filled with sounds. The most annoying sound came from a group of soldiers that were bothering the waitresses. Shouting obscenities and taking every opportunity to touch them. Daniel didn’t hesitate and approached them.

“Listen, guys! The party is over! Leave, now!” He raised his voiced but remained calm. One of the soldiers, most likely the leader, stood in front of the little warden.

“Get a load of this guard! You’re telling us what to do?”

“Sure, I am, mate.” Quick as a whip, Daniel grabbed the man by the back of his neck and slammed his head onto the nearest table. That was followed by a second slam. And a third one. Luckily, he stopped right before the fourth one when he heard him whimper.

“I get it. We’ll leave. Mercy.”

Daniel released him.

“Sweet. Now, empty your pockets and leave before I change my mind.”

Zevran was speechless. He had to work so hard to reach that level of intimidation with the other Crow apprentices. And he knew them for several years. Daniel just came into a brothel and made a man in his forties cry like a baby. His nose and mouth were bleeding. And there was a scratch in his forehead that would probably grow into a nasty bruise.

Maybe it was that savagery and courage that made Daniel so hypnotic. A little wild poisonous flower that blossomed in the middle of the chaos.

The sound of clashing metal called his attention and broke his train of thought. He looked to the side while Daniel collected the coins the souldiers left in their haste.

“Buch of losers.”

Zevran didn’t answer as he was distracted with another ferocious beast from Rivain. Her smile was wide as she parried the blades of two seasoned men. He half-smiled while whispering her name.

“Isabela.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to Natsu_Onigawa. Thanks for being the first comment and also for giving me my will back!


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